


What's In A Prize?

by EdmondJames_Dantes



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Barebacking, Canon What Canon, Coitus Interruptus, Coming Out, Communication, Engagement, Humour, Jethro's POV, Love-Making, M/M, Outed Without Consent, Rough Sex, Smut x2, Talking, Tony's POV, happiness, slice of life fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 00:31:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19188283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdmondJames_Dantes/pseuds/EdmondJames_Dantes
Summary: Tony's a bit broken-hearted about not ever getting to talk when he accepts awards on behalf of Jethro (and in this essay the author will show and tell why it's Not because he's a narcissist).





	What's In A Prize?

 

 

_Anthony "Tony" DiNozzo (Jr)_

_A Year Earlier_

Tony and Gibbs stand awkwardly in front of Leon Vance in his office, first thing in the morning, long before their team has even arrived, as Vance scribbles one last thing down on some paperwork.

Vance looks up. "Well, gentlemen?" he says simply.

Tony had requested this meeting.

"We just wanted to tell you that we're together," says Gibbs, chin tilting up in unconscious defiance.

"Together," says Vance flatly, staring at Gibbs.

Tony's gaze flicks anxiously between Gibbs and Vance. "As in, like a couple," he explains, his face heating up.

"Like a couple," repeats Vance, seemingly stuck on the concept. His brow furrows and he leans back in his chair, setting his pen down, surveying them both thoroughly.

"We just thought we should tell you," adds Tony, wishing that he was anywhere but here, telling the Tooth-pick this. He doesn't want to be posted back to being Agent Afloat on some far off ship somewhere and he wouldn't put it past Vance to use their carefully carved out bit of happiness against him.

But Tony and Jethro have talked about, well, everything. Their feelings, their relationship. They are serious, about each other, about this new romantic twist of fate to their relationship _. Partners_ , Jethro had called them with challenging eyes, daring Tony to flinch at the commitment in his voice and his choice of name for them. _Lovers,_ countered Tony mildly, _it sounds less like we're cops, or planning a business or a bank heist that way._

And if they're not open and honest with their employer, following NCIS policy of declaring that change of status in their relationship, then it could come back to bite them in the ass.

"DiNozzo," says Vance, after a long, _long_ moment, his entire being seeping disbelief. "Gibbs. I'm not stupid, or blind, and I didn't get to the director's chair by being oblivious. I've known about and taken into account your personal relationship since Gibbs stormed into my office like a lovesick Romeo demanding I bring you back from Agent Afloat all those years ago."

Tony's mouth opens, and closes, and opens again, jaw hanging open this time for all the flies in the world.

Beside him, Tony has the vague awareness that Gibbs raises his hand to point out just how wrong Vance is.

Tony recovers just enough, just in time to catch Gibbs's hand and lower it before his lover starts talking. "Thank you, sir," says Tony politely to Vance. "We appreciate your discretion. If you'll excuse us, we have paperwork of our own to get back to."

Vance looks at him strangely for a moment, in which time Tony realises it's probably because he and Gibbs are still holding hands, before Vance dismisses them with a wave.

"But-" starts Gibbs finally.

"Nope, no buts, boss," says Tony. He's going to take this win and run with it, and he tugs Gibbs out the door.

He manages to get them all the way to halfway down the stairs to the bullpen before the hysteria building in his chest comes tumbling out his mouth in exultant, unrestrained laughter.

Tony throws his arms around Gibbs's shoulders and shakes and shakes, burying his happy, relieved tears in Jethro's neck as Jethro rubs his arm and strokes his hair, trying futilely to calm him down.

Given that Tony's flying on cloud nine, it takes a while.

(Somehow, he doesn't think Vance will begrudge him this moment.)

 

 

(That evening, Leon Vance shows up on their doorstep, bottle of white wine in hand and congratulations on his lips, for finally having had the courage to _tell him._

This time it's Jethro - not Gibbs the marine sniper and hard-ass federal agent, but Jethro the lover, the partner, the playful human who cuddles and kisses and sleeps in on weekends - Jethro who cracks up laughing. But since Tony is cooking dinner, it's up to Jethro anyway to gasp out the truth through his amusement.

Vance lets them keep the wine.

Tony lets him stay for dinner.)

 

 

_Present day_

Tony wrote a speech.

Of course he did.

Every year, he writes an acceptance speech on behalf of Gibbs, writing up a new one each year to include Jethro's most recent accomplishments and Tony's changing and deepening feelings towards him. Though, the themes of bravery, effort, and dedication above and beyond the call of duty, do remain constant.

Because when you get right down to it, Leroy Jethro Gibbs is brave and driven and dedicated and Tony is proud of him, he is so, _so_ damned proud. And he wrote this year's speech a month ago, spending every last minute of his free time between cases practicing and memorizing it.

And yet.

Tony wakes up Saturday morning, stretching lazily with his eyes still shut against the light, grateful that it's finally the weekend. Finally. He can relax. He doesn't have to jump up and out bed, and rush through his normal pre-work routine.

He luxuriates in the soft, warm sheets. He can feel Jethro stretched out on his stomach behind him, the side of him pressing up against Tony, and Tony smiles, enjoying the warmth his lover gives out. Happy to have Jethro close.

And yet.

There's a gloomy feeling sitting at the back of Tony's mind. A tiny hurt tugging at his heartstrings.

For the first time, the very first time in all his years at NCIS, Tony has woken up the morning of the NCIS prize-giving and doesn't want to go.

Tony does _not_ want to walk up the stairs to the stage.

He does _not_ want to accept Gibbs's award.

And he does _not_ want to stand up on the stage in front of all his coworkers and their families, and _try_ to give a fucking speech.

Try to give a speech, because nobody ever fucking bothers listening to it.

Tony prepares it carefully, practices it until it repeats in his dreams, and is absolutely, _completely_ heartfelt about wanting to honour Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

And yet.

He gets shut down every single time

And he's goddamned sick of it.

Tony groans in frustration.

"Easy sweetheart, it's not a work day, we're not on call. You can go back to sleep if you need, Tony," mumbles a sleep-rough voice into Tony's bare shoulder. An arm drags over Tony and a large warm hand settles on his ribs, the thumb stroking softly, trying to soothe him.

Tony smiles and covers Jethro's hand with his own, squeezing for a second, then he slowly, carefully turns over in Jethro's arms to face his lover.

Jethro stares at him, a peaceful expression on his face, his blue eyes sleepy but warm and his silver hair a mess. He looks content. He looks beautiful.

"Hi Tony," says Jethro, smiling softly.

"Hi Jethro," murmurs Tony, cupping Jethro's cheek and leaning in, gently kissing him right on his chapped lips and playfully nibbling on the bottom lip. He nuzzles along Jethro's stubbled jaw and sucks on an earlobe before whispering, "It's not sleep I need." He needs a distraction from the looming prize-giving.

Jethro's breath hitches, and his hands go wandering over Tony's body, rubbing over his back, one hand sliding down to his ass and gripping and massaging the cheek, pulling Tony against him, pushing his hips forward and urging their bodies together.

Tony hums in pleasure, Jethro's already half hard, and his own cock perks up at the hot, silky feel of Jethro's shaft twitching and insistently nudging against his own.

He sits up, reaches over and rummages in the bedside table, pulling out a tube of KY and dropping it on Jethro's chest.

Jethro picks it up with an easy grin. "That a hint, darlin'?"

Tony shrugs, smiling faintly, still a bit shy about occasionally asking to bottom. He pushes Jethro into laying back, slinging a leg over and settling in Jethro's lap. He sets his hands on strong broad shoulders, shuffling to get comfortable, and rocks over Jethro's cock, setting up a lazy, hedonistic rhythm.

Jethro runs an appreciative eye over him, dropping the lube back onto his chest and running hands over Tony's torso and arms, and lightly stroking Tony's cock.

People seem to look at Tony and think his lingering pretty boy looks and so-called metrosexual grooming habits equate to wanting to being fucked and treated submissively in bed. But while he likes Jethro's cock in his ass, most of the time he much prefers his own cock up Jethro's ass - and that's even if they bother to do anal at all. Tony wishes he cared less what people thought of him, but he can't get the hang of it. At least Jethro doesn't fit or like the stereotypes either.

Letting his head fall back in pleasure, Tony groans at how good Jethro feels, at that nice dick rubbing over the sensitive spot behind his balls, at the hot drag of his balls over Jethro's shaft, at his own dick pressed and rubbed between Jethro's dick and Jethro's hand when he draws back and then slides forward.

It feels good.

Eventually Jethro must want to get a move on, because he grabs the lube again, flicks the cap off and pours a fair amount onto his right palm, then setting the tube aside.

Tony licks his lips, watching Jethro take his time rubbing his fingers together, thoroughly slicking up each one.

Jethro smirks slightly, and bucks up a little, teasingly.

Tony grins and digs his knees into Jethro's sides, grinding down a little harder on Jethro's cock. "I need a cowboy hat."

"Mmm," rumbles Jethro, with a slow grin, "You'd look good with a Stetson, riding my dick."

Tony snorts softly, bouncing just a little in Jethro's lap, impatient.

"Come 'ere, cowboy," says Jethro, his voice soft and sweet but heavy like dark molasses, dragging Tony under.

Tony leans down and presses his lips to Jethro's, kissing him deeply, wet and hot. Lots of tongue, the way Jethro likes best.

Jethro wraps a hand around his neck, and between each kiss, they breathe heavily, panting out hot air as their noses brush and rub together. Vaguely Tony remembers wanting to forget something, but between one kiss and the next he forgets that too.

Fingers, wet with lube, trace along Tony's lower spine, the blunt nails gently scratching down each vertebrae, then the fingertips dip into his cleft, rubbing along his soft skin between his ass cheeks, before finally, finally, lightly kneading his asshole.

Tony moans into their kiss at the feeling, and moans louder as Jethro slips a finger into his hole. He tucks his face into Jethro's throat, feeling like he's overheating, excited, arousal twisting and flexing like a snake in his guts.

Jethro strokes a calloused hand along his back soothingly, and is more gentle than Tony considers himself deserving, _or_ needing, as he swirls and thrusts his finger.

"Get on with it," mutters Tony, trying to hide his desperation behind irritation, undulating his hips, urging his cock and balls over and against Jethro's.

Jethro kisses his temple and caresses his hair. "Wanna make love nice and slow this morning. There ain't anywhere we have to be, Tony."

Tony groans in frustration at that, falling forward and gently knocking his forehead on Jethro's breastbone and Jethro laughs quietly at him, shaking lightly beneath him. He blows out an annoyed breath, but relents, nuzzling into Jethro's throat, dropping kisses and nipping at the jut of Jethro's clavicle.

But Tony gets his wish, Jethro withdraws his finger then taps at his pucker with two fingers, pressing them together and slipping them into the first ring of muscle, giving no respite and sliding them in deep.

Groaning in delight, Tony stretches, arcing his back, and their cocks get caught up and squeezed between their bellies. Spreading his knees, wriggling on Jethro's hand, Tony bites his lip, trying to urge his lover to fingerfuck him.

"You like that, huh?" murmurs Jethro, husky and aroused.

Tony drops his head to look at his lover between slitted eyes, glaring balefully.

A grin curves Jethro's mouth, crooked and amused, and he beckons with his fingers buried in Tony, rubbing firmly over Tony's prostate.

Tony melts. He settles more firmly onto Jethro, stretching out, letting his lover take his weight and he rests his head on the pillow beside Jethro's so that he can press happy kisses to Jethro's stubbled jaw as he grinds his aching and now drooling cock into the hollow of Jethro's hip.

Jethro strokes his hair with one hand and strokes his sweet spot with the other. Grunting and moaning at the satisfying touches, Tony fumbles with his sleep-heavy and pleasure-heavy limbs, working a hand between them to play with Jethro's dick.

Tugging and pulling on Jethro's dick and tweaking the tip every now and then gets little sighs and groans out of Jethro's lips, and when he rasps a nail lightly over the sensitive spot just under the ridge, he gets a good strong keening sound that might be _Tony_ or might be a strangled scream, like it's torn from Jethro's lungs.

Jethro's mouth finds his and Tony gets a slick tongue insisting on fucking his mouth as they rock their bodies together, like waves rolling onto the seashore, and then there's a second hand on Tony's ass, pulling him forward just a little, followed by fingers pulling _out_ of his ass and Tony _whines_ against Jethro's lips. Displeased and pissed off and ready to give Jethro hell.

"Tony, it's alright, sweetheart," rumbles Jethro, petting his ass cheek softly, "I got what you need."

Something wet and blunt pokes at Tony's ass, wider than his grasping hole, pressing relentlessly forward, and Tony bites his lower lip, clenching his eyes shut, groaning in intertwining pleasure and pain as Jethro's plump mushroom-shaped cockhead slowly forces apart his muscles and pops inside.

Jethro groans, head lolling back. "That's it, Tony, let me in. Just relax and open up that sweet bubblebutt ass for me, sweetheart."

Tony breathes heavily, sweat starting to dew on his forehead and neck, kissing and sucking Jethro's throat mindlessly, open-mouthed and wet, as he focuses on letting Jethro's cock inside.

With every moment Tony relaxes, Jethro's cock slips incrementally farther into him, a clench and release, and then another gentle push, until Tony's going out of his mind with pleasure and Jethro loses his patience, gripping Tony firmly by the hips, holding him in place, and with a loud cry, slams the last couple inches of his cock up into Tony's hole.

Tony grunts hard, trembling at the hot thick shaft that's opening him up, the heavy weight of it pressing solidly on his sweet spot. "What happened to nice and slow love-making?" he says halfheartedly, raising his head, straining to think over the throbbing of his dick, weeping between their bellies.

"You inspire me to not waste time," drawls Jethro, eyes fallen shut in languid pleasure and mouth fallen open in a haphazard grin, tilting his hips to pull his cock out just a little, then rocking back in, grazing Tony's prostate.

Tony moans and gyrates his hips, gently rocking on Jethro's cock and getting used all over again to the feel of it, hot and heavy and slick, dragging perfectly as it slides in and out of his ass.

"Talking bout not wasting time, I'm not gonna last, love," mutters Jethro shyly into Tony's hair, sneaking a hand between them to fondle and rub Tony's cock, his thumb teasing around the ridge and playing with his piss slit. "You make my dick so hard, Tony, you take me so good." He gently thrusts in and out of Tony's asshole, making little circles with his hips as he presses up and in, his breathing speeding up into ragged gasps.

"'S okay, 'Ro, me neither," mumbles Tony into Jethro's shoulder, his eyes rolling back into his head from the feeling of Jethro's cock rocking into him and massaging his prostate. He slides his arms under and around his lover, and rolls them onto their sides, Jethro moaning in his arms and arching against him, his fat cock shifting in Tony's guts and Tony keens loudly.

It's a little easier like this. Tony brings a leg over Jethro's hip to lock them together, and Jethro wraps an arm around his back and steals his mouth in a thankful loving kiss, only breaking it to gasp, "So goddamned perfect for me, Tony, sweetheart."

"Fucking fuck me, Jethro," demands Tony, all hesitance fucked out of him. "Love your fat cock in my ass, Jethro, feels so good. C'mon and give it up for me!"

Jethro's hips push frantically, pumping his cock into Tony in quick shallow, desperate jabs, and Jethro moans, "Your hole's so hot and tight for me, baby. Gonna cum so hard, _Tony!_ " Jethro's body stiffens, hips stuttering, and he groans hard, pressing their foreheads together, as his cock swells and pulses inside Tony.

Moaning in pleasure, Tony clamps down around the long fat cock, pressing it over his prostate, and his own dick rubs over Jethro's abs, dripping and smearing his precum.

" _Hnnngh_ ," says Jethro, still thrusting in and out of Tony's hole, riding out the waves of pleasure. Jethro shoves both hands between their bodies, grabbing a handful of Tony's cock and balls, tugging and squeezing roughly, and finding that soft sweet spot behind Tony's balls, his knuckles digging in and rubbing firmly, and then Tony's shuddering in pure bliss.

"Love you, Jethro," grunts Tony, locking his gaze with Jethro's eyes, dark and deep. Tony groans low and long, his balls pulling up tight, and he fucks hard and fast into Jethro's tight grip, his cock pulsing and spurting and making a mess.

"Fucking hell," says Jethro, panting heavily.

Tony wraps an arm around Jethro's back and nods drowsily against Jethro's forehead, that perfect post-coital lethargy draping over his mind and settling into his whole body.

He's vaguely aware of Jethro wiping his wet hands on the sheets, and then slightly sticky fingers are cupping his cheeks. "Love you too, Tony," says Jethro simply, leaning in and kissing him softly and sweetly.

Tony lets his eyes fall shut and kisses back gently, Jethro's love sinking into his bones and making him feel warm and safe and happy. He presses little kisses to the corner of Jethro's mouth and along the stubbled jaw to tongue the rim of Jethro's ear, listening to Jethro moan, feeling him shiver.

They hug and kiss and stroke each other, caressing skin and rocking together some more and making love some more. They don't get a lot of weekends off duty _and_ off call and they make the most of those once in a blue moon lazy mornings. The peace never lasts forever, but while it lasts, it's always good.

A small eternity later, Jethro kisses his way back up Tony's treasure trail, licking up wayward cum splattered across Tony's chest, and kissing every inch of skin as he makes his way up Tony's neck. "It's your turn to make breakfast," says Jethro, and promptly sucks in Tony's earlobe.

Tony rolls his eyes, pretty sure that they have missed breakfast by several hours, and are now due for lunch, judging by his growling stomach, and pretty sure that it is in fact _Jethro's turn_ to make breakfast, _and_ pretty sure that the blow job was a bribe to get Jethro out of doing it.

But Tony _is_ in a gracious mood, having just had a whole morning of sleeping in and love-making. He considers their options. "Pancakes sound good?"

Jethro pulls his lips off his earlobe to look at him, nodding vigorously, looking every inch an eager little boy.

Tony grins and presses an impulsive kiss to Jethro's nose. "Pancakes it is then."

 

 

With the radio playing some _Queen_ song quietly in the background, and under the cool running water of the shower, Tony cuddles in close to Jethro, relaxing as Jethro washes his hair. Using Tony's high quality, expensive shampoo, conditioner, and all.

And then Jethro patiently _suffers_ through Tony tending to his silver strands with the same items and level of care.

Afterwards, Jethro gives him an unimpressed look and Tony raises an eyebrow at the low-key insolence.

"You can't deny that your hair feels nicer and softer and looks healthier when you put a bit of effort into it, Jethro," says Tony evenly.

At Jethro's continued put-upon face, Tony brings out the big guns. "It's nice that you let me take care of you, just a little," he says softly, letting his lips pout. It's true, after all.

Jethro blinks, and his disgruntlement fades. "I _do_ like when you take care of me," he admits grudgingly. "Just don't see what's wrong with my shampoo," adds Jethro pointedly.

Tony gives up and rolls his eyes, turning aside to hide his grin, but spies a smile tugging at Jethro's mouth. Tony rather likes that they bicker like an old married couple, and he thinks fondly of a little box hiding away under all his socks in the chest of drawers that Jethro had built for him _._

 

 

Tony yanks on jeans, not bothering with underwear, and nicks one of Jethro's old NIS t-shirts to wear, jogging barefoot down the stairs ahead of Jethro to get breakfast started as his stomach restarts its grumbling.

He clatters around in the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee and whipping up a batter. Jethro comes down, having finished re-sheeting the bed, and sits at the dining table, faded jeans and one of Tony's ancient OSU shirts on, reading the newspaper, and the domesticity of it all never fails to both shock Tony and make him feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

As he fixes up their pancakes, he sneaks little glances at Jethro, the sight of Leroy Jethro Gibbs in casual clothes on just another morning. The reading glasses are both adorable and sexy.

Tony places their plates on the table, piled high with fluffy pancakes, topped with slices of strawberries and smothered in maple syrup, and sits down opposite Jethro's thankful smile and adorable sexy reading glasses and warm blue eyes, and Tony's heart _aches_.

"Looks good, love," grins Jethro, loading up his fork.

Tony nods and grins around his first hasty mouthful. It tastes good too.

There's a hesitant knock at the front door.

He and Jethro share a quizzical glance. It's Saturday morning, not generally a time that Gibbs gets visitors, and Tony's still technically living in his apartment, not that they're _out_ with many people, but still, nobody would be looking for him here.

"I'll get it," says Jethro, looking vaguely like he wishes he had his gun on him, and he nabs a strawberry as he gets up.

Tony keeps eating his pancakes, seeing no reason to let his own go cold and uneaten, but he listens carefully. Who expects a serial killer to knock first? And yet, what better way to get your victims to lower their guard and open the front door for you?

In the back of his mind Tony checks in on his constantly running tallies of weapons, escape routes, and communication devices to call for aid. But Tony's pretty sure he can do some serious damage with his knife and fork if need be.

Fortunately, it's just one of Jethro's neighbours.

"Hey Richard," he hears Jethro say. "What can I do for you?"

"Good mornin' Gibbs. Just wanted to check in and make sure you was all good."

"Yeah, we're all good. Something happen?" asks Jethro, and Tony frowns, wondering if maybe he actually needs to go get their guns and badges.

"Well, it's just that when I got home from my shift a few minutes ago, my wife tells me she heard some kinda strange noises, like someone hurting, just a li'l while ago. And with you being a federal agent and all, the wife was a bit worried some bad guy had followed you home," says Richard, concern evident in his tone.

Tony chokes on his pancake.

Jethro doesn't say anything for a long moment. That's fine. Tony doesn't need to hear his voice to know he's gone bright red with embarrassment.

"Sorry about that," says Jethro hoarsely. "No, uh, no bad guys. Just, ah, me and my partner. We'll try to keep it down in the future."

Tony claps a hand over his mouth, trying not to let any laughter escape.

"Oh," says Richard. Then, " _Oh!_ "

Tony pushes his plate away and buries his face in his arms, giving up on keeping quiet and he _shakes_ with laughter.

He misses the rest of the conversation but Jethro comes back in a minute or two later, his face burning up, cheeks and ears a bright prickly red, looking like he's going to burst. He sits back down and glares at Tony.

"Sweetheart, if you want your dick sucked ever again, I am going to _fucking gag you_ next time. I swear to god, Tony, how many times do I have to tell you to keep it down? Maggie has ears like a fucking bat," hisses Jethro, leaning forward, hands flat on the table. "Richard might be fooled by her innocent act but she knows damn well I have a gun and can take down any bad guys who might be dumb enough to trespass!"

Tony laughs harder, covering his face with his hands and _crying_.

After a moment he hears Jethro groan, and Tony peeks through his fingers to catch Jethro smothering his own face with his hands, starting to laugh.

 

 

They snicker quietly all through-out breakfast, smirking whenever they catch each other's eye, and choking on their food as they try not to giggle.

When they've both demolished their stacks of pancakes and Jethro's put the dishes in the sink, Jethro puts his newspaper and reading glasses to the side and extends a hand across the table to Tony.

Tony takes his hand, smiling at him.

Jethro grins back, but there's worry sitting beneath the affection, and he says gently, "Think you're up for telling me whatever it was you needed distracting from when you woke up this morning?"

Tony blinks, utterly dumbfounded for a moment.

But before he can cover it up with a quick retort, Jethro barks a surprised laugh. "I actually fucked it right out of your head, didn't I?"

Groaning, Tony covers his eyes with his hand. "I can't get fucking anything past you, can I?" Jesus, Jethro is never going to let him live this down.

"No," says Jethro, snickering softly.

Tony sighs. He really doesn't want to talk about the prize-giving. Or think about it for that matter. And he'd come _so_ close to forgetting it even existed.

"Come on, Tony, it can't be that bad," soothes Jethro, gently squeezing his hand. "And I'm not upset that you used love-making with me as a distraction, I mean you clearly weren't thinking about anything except me," he adds on with a cocky grin.

Tony rolls his eyes, but that gloomy feeling is rolling back over his mind like an oppressive fog, and he doesn't feel so good anymore. In fact, he feels a lot _not good._

"Sweetheart?" asks Jethro, peering at him anxiously. "Let me hear some of that yabba yabba, yeah, Tony?" Jethro squeezes his hand in encouragement.

Tony bites his lip. This is the hard part of a partnership: being honest about his feelings, opening up and baring his soul to another person. Jethro says it gets easier with practice.

He licks his lips self-consciously and ducks his head a little. "Sometimes it feels like nobody listens to me," says Tony quietly, looking anywhere but at Jethro.

Jethro's harsh inhale is like a canon sounding off in the silence of the kitchen.

"Tony," says Jethro urgently. " _Tony_."

Tony looks up. The blood's drained from Jethro's face and he's trembling, reaching out with his other hand, gripping Tony's hand between both of his like it's a lifeline.

Tony opens his mouth to say something, alarmed and hating himself for putting that fright on his lover's face, but Jethro beats him to speaking: "Do you feel like I don't listen to you?"

Tony blinks. He gives the brave question the honest consideration it deserves, despite already knowing the answer. "No," says Tony easily, squeezing Jethro's fingers in support. "You might not always like what I say, or how much I talk, but you always listen."

He smiles slightly as the fear fades from Jethro and the hands holding his own lose their desperation. Tony adds his spare hand to their tangled fingers.

Jethro breathes out slowly, a little unsteady, and Tony winces. Three divorces under his belt, three ex-wives who accused Jethro of not talking enough, not caring enough, not communicating enough. What Tony had said had probably struck close to a nerve, though he hadn't meant it to.

He rubs Jethro's fingers and waits for him to regain his composure. "I didn't mean you," he says softly, hoping it helps.

"Okay," breathes out Jethro. "Not me," he repeats to himself, then he looks up determinedly. "But other people?"

Tony nods miserably, and the truth comes bursting out, erupting out of his heart: "Every year I write a speech for you, for prize-giving night, because they always give you another commendation or some medal, and you never bother to go, and I just want to say how proud I am of you and how honoured I am to be your second, your Senior Field Agent, when I go up to accept the award on your behalf, but nobody since Director Morrow has ever let me get more than a few words out, I get shut down every single fucking time and _I hate it._ "

Tony sucks in a deep shuddering breath of air and ducks his head against Jethro's concerned, sympathetic gaze. He's not done, but he forces himself to finish, even if it's in a small voice, "It's the only time that nobody would think I was gay for you if I talk about how proud I am of you, because you're _supposed_ to be proud of people when they win something, and we're still keeping us quiet, but nobody thinks I'm worth listening to, even when I'm not talking about _me_."

Tony squeezes his eyes shut against Jethro's judgement, feeling a little like he's dug his fingers into his ribcage and ripped it wide open. For a long moment he can't hear anything over the pounding rush of blood in his ears. He swipes his hands over his stinging eyes. _DiNozzos don't cry, Junior._

Gentle fingers nudge his chin up.

Reluctantly Tony raises his head and meets Jethro's eyes.

Jethro looks wrecked. And furious.

Tony flinches back from the anger in his eyes.

"Hey sweetheart, no. I'm not mad at you, Tony." Jethro cups his cheek. "I'm mad at everyone who has ever made you feel small, I'm mad at everyone who has ever hurt you. Me included."

Tony nods, makes himself breathe evenly and forces a smile. "It's just a stupid speech. I'm making it out to be bigger than it is."

But Jethro shakes his head. "I don't care how big or small it is. It's hurting you, and that's not okay. Come here, Tony, I really need to hug you right now."

Tony's round the kitchen table and in Jethro's lap and arms in a heartbeat, hiding his face in Jethro's neck. "I'm sorry," mutters Tony into Jethro's warm skin, a few tears leaking out. "I know you say not to let anyone else get under my skin. I wish I was as brave and strong as you."

Jethro's arms tighten around him and he murmurs, "I wish I could give you just a little bit of my Don't Give A Fuck attitude, but Tony, darlin', caring what other people think of you doesn't make you a coward or weak. It just makes you human."

Tony gives a small nod, comforted by the words.

They stay in their embrace, holding on to each other for a long while, and slowly, with Jethro rubbing a warm hand up and down his spine, Tony starts to feel better.

Eventually he draws back, and Jethro's blue gaze is warm and caring.

Jethro smiles gently at him, and Tony smiles back automatically, a tiny swell of happiness reviving within him.

"Go get the speech you wrote for me, I want to hear it," rumbles Jethro.

So Tony does.

 

 

Jethro meets him at the foot of the stairs and pulls Tony into the living room to curl up together on the couch.

At first, Tony is hot with embarrassment as he painstakingly mutters his way through reading the speech from his laptop - he's long since given up on printing notes - but Jethro coaxes confidence out of him with pleased smiles and sweet words of encouragement and his own embarrassed blush whenever Tony's adoration comes through too clearly.

Tony gets to the end of that speech and Jethro asks for another, so Tony obliges, bringing up older speeches. Ones he'd hoped to tell that were full of jokes and hero worship, and newer speeches that he'd known he wouldn't get the chance to say, full of anger and snipes at various people's stupid decisions that make Jethro wince and snicker in turn.

There's even a couple speeches from their middle years that contain wildly over the top declarations of lust that have Jethro in stitches, imagining Tony announcing in front of all their coworkers his appreciation for Jethro's ass and arms, amongst other body parts.

There's an entire paragraph dedicated to his beautiful dick that has Jethro hiding his burning face. And Tony embellishes off script, making up purple prose on the spot as he describes Jethro's eyes, until Jethro's burying his face in Tony's shoulder.

But Tony turns solemn and serious, telling a truth that's hidden in one particular speech. Describing the way his heart seems to fill and grow inside his chest when Jethro turns playful while trying to impart hands-on skills to Tony. Streaking paint across Tony's face while painting christmas toys for the children in need. Teasing Tony with his body as he teaches him to 'go with the grain of the wood' whilst sanding the boat.

Tony strokes Jethro's hair as he says he loves how Jethro will sit quiet and smiling beside him as he plays the piano, Jethro swaying gently as he listens intently to all the emotions that Tony can share with his hands but not normally so easily with his words.

Jethro shakes his head helplessly as Tony says he loves how Jethro turns the radio up in the shower or in the car and sings his heart out to songs, never mind whether he's in or out of tune. Tony presses a kiss to Jethro's ear, murmuring that he loves how Jethro dedicates the songs to him, when Jethro can't find the right words but he _can_ find the right lyrics.

Tony hugs Jethro hard as Jethro cries quietly, little awed tears dripping down his cheeks, and curls around him. Jethro whispers the same old shit that he's not a good man, that he doesn't deserve Tony. But before Tony can protest, Jethro follows it up with a fierce promise that he'll spend the rest of his life trying to be worthy of him. And _that_ , that's progress. Tony's not the only one with insecurity and self-esteem issues and he knows it.

Tony grins widely into Jethro's silver hair, inhaling his scent, and Tony's proud all over again, of Jethro and himself, thinking that maybe the only one who needs to know what Tony thinks of Leroy Jethro Gibbs _is_ the man himself, and thinking once more of that little box hidden away in his sock drawer. _Now,_ whispers Tony's heart, _I should ask him now_.

Jethro's committed, he's making promises involving the rest of his life, the rest of their life, that Tony can tell he means _,_ and Tony already knows that Jethro is absolutely, definitely, 100% _still_ the marrying type, despite all the bullshit he talks up in front of other people.

Hell, Tony's known that Jethro's committed to him for a while now, if he's honest with himself beneath all his fears and insecurities. There's an electric keyboard (with weighted keys) permanently set up on a stand (complete with a sitting stool), hiding under a silk lined tarp in the basement. It had turned up mysteriously a month into their romantic relationship, a few days after Tony had mentioned not being able to fall asleep some nights without playing the piano.

 _But there's no such thing as a perfect moment_ , sighs Tony as Jethro finally pulls back to look him in the eye.

"Let's skip the prize-giving tonight," says Jethro roughly. "I never go anyway, waste of time, especially if no-one's gonna let the best speaker have his turn. So just stay home with me and we'll have our own little party." He stares at Tony beseechingly.

Tony blinks, the perfect moment handed to him on a silver platter, and gives Jethro a sly grin. "Care to make our own little party into our very own _celebration?_ "

Jethro quirks an eyebrow, "Sure, what did you have in mind?"

Tony opens his mouth. "Leroy Jethro Gibbs, I love you. Like, I'm _in love._ With you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you, would you consider _tying yourself to me in a civil union?_ "

Jethro's eyes pop and his jaw drops, his entire face going slack with shock.

Tony's jaw clicks shut, eyes closing slowly in consternation. That hadn't been what he'd practiced or planned on saying. Fuck. Tony winces. He hadn't been able to help it, his mind had just gone blank. _Oh fuck_.

Jethro's lips slam against Tony's mouth in a literally bruising kiss, knocking their teeth together, their noses colliding sharply, and Tony groans in simultaneous pain and relief. That's a yes, _surely that's a yes?_

He kisses back eagerly, bringing up his hands to cup Jethro's face, and grinning into Jethro's mouth and into Jethro's hands that cup his own cheeks.

Eventually they part for air, breathing open-mouthed and heavy, and Tony nips at Jethro's lower lip in retribution for his bruised mouth and aching nose.

Jethro chuckles and peppers kisses to Tony's mouth and nose and eyebrows as he strokes Tony's hair, carefully pressing soft kisses to Tony's closed eyelids.

"I fucking love you too, Tony," breathes out Jethro. "Hell _yes,_ let's get unionized, united, u-and-me for fucking ever."

Tony grins widely and nods, pressing a tiny kiss to Jethro's jaw and pulling Jethro into a tight hug, speechless with sheer, exultant happiness.

 

 

_That Evening_

Tonight feels surreal, like a dream. It's not late but their bedroom is a dark and cool sanctuary, only a few candles lit on the bedside table casting their familiar shadows on the wall, and Tony relaxes into the pillows propping him up.

Jethro's baby blues are blown wide, his cheeks flushed and lips bruised, a hand shoved under him to stroke his own dick, and Jethro presses his lips to Tony's shaft as it lays on his abs, trailing little kisses along the vein, with his intent gaze locked on Tony's.

He moans as Jethro suckles on his cockhead, and lets his head fall back, trying to be quiet, the summer breeze blowing through and reminding him of the open windows behind the curtains. Can't disturb the neighbours, thinks Tony with a grin. Vaguely he's aware of noises out the window, people talking and laughing, slamming car doors and making a racket; there must be a party happening somewhere in the neighbourhood.

Well, _another_ party, Tony acknowledges, as he enjoys the little private one they've got going for themselves. He strokes Jethro's hair as Jethro sucks his dick down, the short fuzz at the nape of his neck, until his fingers find the small silver chain holding Jethro's new platinum dog tags, warmed by Jethro's body, and Tony twirls the chain around his fingers, holding on and grounding himself in the feel of it.

His hips push up instinctively, feeding Jethro his cock, pushing into that hot wet throat, and Jethro might be the one choking but Tony's drowning nonetheless, swept up in the pleasure.

The dream-like pleasure shatters with the sound of someone fumbling and cursing god out at the front door. Tony bolts upright, and Jethro pulls off his dick in a hurry, scrambling to his knees. They stare at each other, wide-eyed.

"You locked the door, right?" whispers Tony, paralysed.

Jethro nods back quickly. "Yeah," he says, sighing in relief. "I'm slowly getting into the habit of it."

Tony stifles nervous laughter, grinning in relief. "Good. That was close."

Ducky - of all people - Ducky's voice drifts up to their ears via the open windows, "Never fear, Timothy, I have a key here somewhere. Now where did I put it..."

Tony's jaw drops and he glares at Jethro. "You gave _Ducky_ a key?" he hisses.

Panic sweeps over Jethro's face. "Years back, but only for emergencies!" he hisses back frantically. "What are we going to do? _Why are they all even here?_ " adds Jethro despairingly. They've been lucky to have never had a visitor drop by during sex prior to now.

Tony scrubs his hands over his face. Jesus Christ, today was meant to be for them alone. God knows when they'll get another weekend off call and to themselves.

But Jethro's looking more and more frantic and upset.

Tony lets out a deep breath and cups Jethro's cheeks in his hands. "We get dressed. You distract them and I'll sneak out the window."

Jethro blinks at him. "Are you out of your goddamned mind, DiNozzo?" he somehow manages to scream in a whisper.

"Have you got a better idea?" snaps back Tony as quietly as he can.

"Jethro?" calls Ducky's voice from the bottom of the stairs, and Tony and Jethro's heads jerk round, their eyes fixing on the door in utter horror.

"Hey boss, are you home?" shouts Tim, quickly followed by the sound of footsteps through the kitchen, no doubt heading for the basement.

"Gibbs? Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs?" screeches Abby's dulcet tones from the living room.

"I want to die," says Tony, the blood draining from his face.

"Not before me, you bastard," snarls Jethro, sheer distilled terror striking his heart at the slimmest thought of having to outlive Tony as well as Shannon and Kelly.

They look at each other in growing panic as they hear Ducky's slow plodding footsteps come up the stairs.

"We could hide under the bed?" offers Jethro, and at the same time, Tony says, "We could _both_ sneak out the window?" But something hits Tony, something in Jethro's choice of word. _Hide?_

"Jethro my dear fellow, are you alright? I can see you have a lamp light on up here."

Jethro's gaze flicks to the flickering candles on the bedside table, but Tony grabs his arm.

"Jethro, we don't have to hide," he whispers urgently.

"What?" whispers Jethro, brow furrowing.

"We're engaged to be united!" Tony's not sure if he ever knew what the proper term was, but it doesn't matter. " _DADT's been gone for years, Vance is cool with us, and Tim and Ellie know already, Jethro we don't have to hide! Just tell Ducky you're busy and you'll be down in a minute!_ " babbles Tony in the quietest and fastest babbling he can ever remember babbling.

"Jethro?" repeats Ducky, knocking on their bedroom door.

"DON'T COME IN, DUCK!" roars Jethro, "I'M NAKED!"

Silence echoes through-out the house.

Tony covers his open mouth with his hand.

Jethro flushes bright red, burning from the tips of his ears through his cheeks and down his throat to mid chest.

 _I panicked,_ mouths Jethro miserably to Tony.

Tony nods understandably, trying not to burst into laughter.

"I'm in the middle of something, Duck," says Jethro loudly towards the door, his voice evenly pitched but his face terrified. "I'll be out when I'm done."

"Er. Yes. Of course, dear man," says Ducky, barely muffled at all by the door. "We'll all just wait downstairs for you, Jethro."

Ducky's footsteps going down the stairs are considerably faster than they had been coming up.

Tony can't say he blames him.

"Oh my god," mutters Jethro, cradling his head in his hands.

Tony falls back into the mountain of pillows against the headboard, grabs one and smothers himself with it, laughing helplessly. God, he fucking loves Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

He doesn't know how long he spends trying to commit suicide via fluffy pillow, but when he surfaces Jethro's peeking at him from behind spread fingers, a futile grin spreading his cheeks.

"Whoops," whispers Jethro, looking like his cheeks are starting to hurt from how hard he's grinning.

It sets Tony off giggling again, placing both hands over his mouth.

"I'm afraid, Special Agents Gibbs," gasps out Tony, wheezing from laughing so hard. "That I'm going to need you to kiss me senseless right the fuck _now_."

Jethro barks a laugh and leans in, batting Tony's hands out of the way and sealing their lips together in a deep wet kiss.

Tony moans into his lover's mouth, enjoying how good he feels, and kisses back eagerly. Jethro pulls off his mouth with one last sucking kiss to Tony's lower lip, breathing hard, and Tony takes a good long look at him.

Jethro's eyes are hot and dark, burning fiercely, and yeah, Tony's got no intention of stopping now that _that_ fire's reignited. Still, he swallows down a knot in his throat against the mortifying feeling that those blue eyes are cutting like a diamond scalpel straight through him to look at his soul, but the only judgement in Jethro's gaze is love.

"You're not getting out of here until _I'm done with you_ ," growls Tony, wanting to forget all about the people downstairs and the interruption, wanting to immerse himself inside of Jethro. Let the whole world wait. Tonight is for them.

A heartbeat later he has his arms full of the Jethro, Jethro's hands grabbing and tugging his hair, Jethro kissing and licking at his mouth. Their kiss is a tonguefuck, a mouthfuck, a slick sloppy mess.

Tony loops his arms around Jethro's back, pressing their bodies together, needing skin to skin, as much as possible, and Jethro rocks in his lap, rocking on his cock, and Tony groans at the weight and feel of him, the building tension throughout his body, the twist of excitement in his guts.

Jethro pulls apart just long enough to yank open the bedside drawer, grab the lube, and then as Jethro presses their lips back together there's a spill of cold fluid between their bellies.

Tony gasps in shock, flinching back at the icy sensation.

Jethro grunts. "My bad," he says, grinning wickedly, his eyes laughing at Tony, and he wraps a hand around their dripping cocks and strokes them together, heating them up.

The cold is suddenly bearable, Tony finds, rocking up into Jethro's fist, moaning and gasping softly with pleasure.

Jethro kisses him gently, letting their faces rest together, breathing in each other's breath. "Need to feel you, Tony," says Jethro, the words rubbing into Tony's lips.

Tony takes a moment to tease Jethro's cockhead, purplish and swollen with need, grazing a nail gently over the soft slit and getting a gasp and oozing precum, then he swipes his fingers through the mess of lube and reaches around to find Jethro's anus.

Jethro shivers in his arms, his asshole winking under the pads of Tony's fingers, and Tony slips one fingertip inside.

"Oh yeah, Tony," rumbles Jethro, a wolfish grin tugging at his lips, and he pushes back onto Tony's hand, his body sucking in Tony's finger past the second knuckle. "More of that, baby."

Tony licks his lips and slides another two fingers into Jethro's ass, Jethro taking those easily as well, undulating on his hand, and Tony looks up at the hazy pleasure on Jethro's face, smiling softly at Jethro's lidded eyes and open-mouthed moans.

Tony rocks his cock against Jethro's, but his lover's forgotten to stroke them, too lost in fucking himself on Tony's fingers and making ready for Tony's cock, so Tony takes both their dicks in hand, gripping and pulling and twisting around their heads until Jethro's thighs are trembling with exertion, his ass is soft and wet and sloppy around Tony's fingers, and their cocks are throbbing and their balls aching.

Jethro groans low and deep and shoves his hands down between them, viciously squeezing the base of his own cock and ensnaring his ball sack in a makeshift ring of thumb and forefinger.

Tony snickers at him. It's flattering, truly, but it's also funny for how often Jethro's teased that Tony's got the lesser stamina.

"Shuddup, honey," says Jethro, glaring at Tony from under a sweat-darkened fringe.

"Make me, handsome," rumbles Tony, and pulls his fingers out of Jethro's hole with an obscene squelching noise.

Jethro gasps and shudders, clenching his eyes shut hard.

"That close, 'Ro?" murmurs Tony, affection rushing over him, and he rubs a hand up and down Jethro's ribs.

"Yeah," grunts out Jethro, and eases out of Tony's lap to lay on his side, facing away from him.

Tony stares, abruptly aghast, at the distance his lover's just put between them. Is this because he laughed?

"Well, Tony? Come on, love," sighs Jethro, patting his ass cheek and raising an eyebrow over his shoulder.

Tony blinks and smiles happily. "Oh right!" All the blood in his brain's gone to his little head, he thinks ruefully.

He shuffles up behind Jethro, pushes Jethro's top thigh forward and out of the way, and slides his cock into Jethro's hot slick hole with a deep relieved groan, wriggling his hips to get as close as possible, pushing forward and bottoming out.

Jethro shudders and keens, and Tony buries his face into Jethro's neck, pressing kisses there, and rubs along Jethro's flank soothingly. Tony breathes slowly, holding back the urge to fuck hard and fast, only starting to move, gently, as Jethro calms in his arms.

"So fucking good, Tony, sweetheart," breathes out Jethro, finding and intertwining their fingers together, bringing Tony's hand to rest over his heart, and Tony's knuckles graze Jethro's dog tags, twin and twain to the pair now hanging around Tony's neck. Tony can just feel the little shiny diamond set into the bottom-left of the front tag. He smiles into Jethro's nape, remembering Jethro's _Hell yes._

"Love feeling you like this, Jethro," says Tony quietly, grinding against Jethro's ass cheeks, trying to get deeper. "You feel so hot and tight and sweet around me, you were fucking made for riding my dick, handsome."

Jethro snorts, "Gotta get that damn cowboy hat!"

Tony giggles softly but he's squirming and fucking harder and faster into Jethro, Jethro's ass flexing in just the right rhythm to drive him wild. "God, I need you, Jethro," whines Tony, mouthing at Jethro's neck, scraping his teeth there.

"Fucking prove it, lover boy!" growls Jethro, groaning and pushing back against him.

Tony throws his weight into fucking him, dragging out slowly, pulling even his cockhead out to tease and poke Jethro's greedy hole, then slamming his cock back up Jethro's ass.

Jethro howls and shakes, shouting and shuddering as Tony fucks him and fucks him, and Tony spares just a thought for Ducky and whoever else is sitting downstairs, waiting for Jethro to finish his _I'm in the middle of something_ , and no doubt hearing all of Jethro's loudest cries.

"Fucking harder, Tony!" gasps out Jethro, stripping his own dick punishingly hard and fast. "Want your hard thick cock, baby!"

Tony rolls Jethro onto his belly.

Let them hear.

Tony grabs a pillow, hoisting Jethro up by the hips and shoving it under his lover, and falling onto him, sliding his cock through Jethro's hole, deep into his ass, his balls slapping against Jethro's skin.

Jethro groans loud and deep, eagerly pushing back onto Tony's cock, "Yeah, that's it, that's my good boy. Right there, sweetheart, right fucking there!" 

Tony gasps at the sudden tightness around his cock, moaning in delight as Jethro cums around his cock, squeezing him perfectly. He stretches out on top of Jethro, corkscrewing his hips and grinding into Jethro's sweet spot, wanting to milk Jethro entirely, make Jethro spill out all his cum, as Jethro moans and moans, rutting into the pillow and fucking back onto his cock.

Jethro's excitement pulls Tony over the crest of his own climax and Tony sinks his cock deep into Jethro's ass, holding there and biting down on Jethro's neck, getting the faint coppery taste of blood and that silver chain pressing on his tongue, and he holds still as Jethro shudders under him, Tony's balls drawing up painfully, his cock pulsing and flooding Jethro's ass with cum.

And they're locked together with Tony sheathed to the hilt, but he can feel his cum oozing out of Jethro's rim, there's so fucking much of it.

"God, Jethro," murmurs Tony, relinquishing his mouthful of shoulder and necklace with a gentle apologetic kiss to the hurt flesh. But he eases up into a straddling position, looking at Jethro's reddened, stretched hole. "You're so fucking sexy for me, handsome," he says, stroking Jethro's ass cheeks and pulling them apart slightly to see more cum drool out around his cock. His dick pumps one more spurt in there.

Jethro's trembling, sweating, still rutting gently through the aftershocks of his own climax, and Tony strokes his back, rubbing up and down Jethro's spine comfortingly.

Slowly, Jethro's ragged gasps settle into steady breathing, and Jethro turns his head to the side to peek over his shoulder, a cat that got the cream grin on his face. "First time I've been fucked by my fiance," says Jethro with relish.

Tony grins, quite pleased to be Jethro's fiance, and he rocks his hips teasingly. Jethro moans, eyes rolling back into his head, as Tony rubs over his overstimulated prostate.

"Okay, okay, enough," whines Jethro, thumping the mattress with the palm of his hand.

Tony smirks in amusement, but dutifully pulls out, only to whimper as Jethro clamps down as he drags out his cockhead.

Jethro laughs at him, loud and happy. "Turnabout's fair play, love."

Swatting Jethro's ass, Tony tumbles down beside him, collapsing into a puddle.

They grin at each other, well fucked and sated, and Tony reaches over to cup Jethro's cheek, stroking lightly.

"Love you, Tony," rumbles Jethro, laying a hand on Tony's shiny dog tags, over Tony's heart, thumping in its ribcage.

"Right back-atcha, Jethro," murmurs Tony softly, but then the gravity of their situation hits him, remembering their coworkers sitting and waiting for Jethro in the living room, and Jethro up here, his ass dripping with Tony's cum, his body drenched in sweat. "What the hell are we going to do now?"

 

 

_Leroy Jethro Gibbs_

Normally, Jethro would send Tony off to the bathroom for a washcloth to clean up with, but Tony's curled up in a ball of worry under all their blankets and pillows - thanks to the assholes who can't respect a locked door sitting downstairs - so Jethro presses a kiss to the tuft of Tony's hair sticking out of the cocoon and ambles off to the bathroom, stretching his arms and scratching idly at his cum drying on his stomach as he goes.

Frankly, he doesn't know how Tony can be stressed after that fuck. His shoulder feels a bit mawed by Tony's enthusiasm, but Jethro feels all loose-limbed and relaxed, his ass aching in that good, well-used way, and his head floating pleasantly.

He turns the heat up and ducks in for a quick hot shower, making sure to wash his new bite mark, and moaning in rough pleasure as he fingers his sore ass, trying to coax out Tony's cum. Tony would probably be disappointed, but Jethro doesn't think he can deal with their coworkers while knowing his ass is leaking.

Jethro dries tersely, towelling his hair but not bothering to style it in his usual mid-part. The antiseptic stings a little as he dabs it into the bite but he doesn't overly mind.

He pulls on Tony's dark jeans in the bedroom, a half size too big in the waist, hanging low on his hips, and a couple inches too long in the leg, scuffing under his heel. Jethro smiles, shaking his head to himself in bemusement. Even Tony's casual jeans are designer and tailored to fit.

He proudly leaves his beautiful engagement dog tags exactly where they are, resting on his bare chest, the little diamond glinting in the candlelight.

Let them wonder.

Jethro's not obliged to explain.

He drops another kiss to Tony's head and ruffles his hair. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he says softly.

"Can you get me a glass of water, please?" says Tony politely, his voice muffled but sweet to Jethro's ears.

Jethro grins, "Sure, sweetheart."

Padding barefoot down the stairs, Jethro's not too keen on this confrontation. God knows how much of his and Tony's love-making his coworkers have heard, and Jethro's not even entirely sure how many of them are in his house. He's not too happy about _that_ , either. Jethro had locked the door for a reason, expecting it to _stay_ locked, and he'd long since forgotten that he'd given Ducky a key years ago.

Still, Jethro rounds the bottom of the stairs and strides into _his_ living room with his back straight and shoulders squared, unwilling to show an inch of embarrassment or remorse in the face of what's probably going to be an awkward conversation. _He_ , at least, hasn't done anything wrong.

Jethro does a quick head count, surveying all the familiar faces. Leon's pursing his lips, in what could be regret for coming with the party, as he leans against the mantlepiece. In the corner, Jimmy's eyes slide away from his and up to the ceiling, Tony's best friend blushing pink, having a good, most likely accurate guess at who is still upstairs in Jethro's bed.

Abby, Tim, and Ellie, are sitting on the couch, Abby smiling widely, Tim wincing at Jethro's stony disapproval - his junior agent really ought to know better - and Ellie's biting her lip, cheeks stained red, somewhere between giggling and wanting to die from embarrassment, from the looks of it.

And Ducky's folded up in the arm chair, radiating amusement. "Jethro, you sly old dog," he says, chuckling.

"You go, bossman, good on you for getting some!" crows Abby, clapping her hands together and then mock-punching the air excitedly.

Jethro frowns, wondering what Abby would think if she knew he'd been the one _gotten_. "Don't be crass, Abby." He puts it out of mind and turns to Ducky.

"Duck, I'm gonna need that key back from you," says Jethro, smiling gently, apologetically, to soften the blow.

Ducky's eyebrows shoot up. "I do heartily apologise for interrupting you and your lady friend, Jethro, I didn't realise you had someone over, though in hindsight, I suppose the locked door could have been considered a clue..." he trails off, frowning to himself as he pulls his bag closer to him.

Jethro blinks at hearing Tony referred to as his _lady friend_ and winces hard. Tony sure as shit doesn't need to hear anything like that after the horrible conversation they'd had with Senior when they had called up to come out to the man. But he lets it go, Ducky doesn't know who his lover is.

Jethro steps forward, hand outstretched and waiting patiently as Ducky mutters to himself, digging around in his huge bag for the key again.

Abby gasps from her seat on the couch, hands flying to her mouth, and Jethro's gaze jerks to her in alarm, but Abby's staring just to the side of his head and down a bit.

"What happened to your shoulder?" blurts out Abby, horrified.

Jethro shrugs with a satisfied grin. "My boyfriend got a little over-excited," he says, deliberately looking away from hers and Ducky's reactions to gently stroke the teeth indentations in his shoulder. It's mostly bruise and will heal quick enough anyway.

Tim chokes on the couch, and Jethro's eyes flicker to him, wondering if he's going to give Tony away, out them, but Tim waves off him and everyone else. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Sorry, swallowed the wrong way," he mutters, ducking his head.

Ellie pats him on the back sympathetically, also in the know, and still bright red herself. Tony and Jethro had told them because they deserved to know, what with putting their lives in the hands of their commanding officers, and Jethro had found himself grateful for it, for the small opportunities it had given him to be affectionate with Tony during difficult cases.

But Abby squeals, high-pitched and deafening, " _Oh my god, Gibbs! You have a boyfriend! Why didn't you tell me? Is he still here? Can we meet him? How long have you been dating a man? I didn't even know you liked men, Gibbs!_ "

Jethro scowls at the barrage of noise and questions, and snaps back, "Yes I have a boyfriend, because you can't keep a secret to save your life, yes he's still here, no you can't meet him until he decides he's ready for it, long enough to be serious, and it wasn't relevant."

Abby stares at him with large hurt eyes and a gaping mouth, and Jethro scowls back harder. She's not actually _entitled_ to his personal life. He cares for Abby, but he's not blind to how she likes to have him wrapped around her finger. And he can't just keep giving into all of her whims anymore, not if he intends to be a good, _healthy_ equal partner to Tony.

It's possible that his damn head-shrink had had a few things to say about his need to have a daughter-figure in his life. The worst thing was that the psychologist had been right. Jethro lets his need blind him to the harm his so-called daughters can do if that's their whimsy.

Ducky finally hands over the key, somewhat hesitantly, and Jethro takes it and stuffs it into Tony's jeans' pocket, huffing, mad at himself now for snapping at Abby. He should probably sit her down at some point and have an actual conversation with her.

Jethro scrubs his hands over his face, trying to control his temper at the whole damn situation.

He hadn't asked anyone to come here and barge in on his personal life. He'd locked the damn door, for Christ's sake.

Jethro grits his teeth and rounds on Leon. "You get that showing up here after I've texted you to say that I've got private, important stuff on tonight, and that I'd be unreachable for the weekend, is a pretty shitty thing to do, right?"

Leon winces, definitely regretting coming along now. "I can't speak for anyone else here, but I'm sorry for the intrusion. I just wanted to drop this off before getting home to the kids." He pulls a small rectangular package out of his suit pocket and holds it out for Jethro.

Jethro takes it, sighing, the sincerity in Leon's tone blunting his anger. "Another damn medal I don't need," he guesses, rattling the box gently.

At that, Leon gives a small grin. "You and DiNozzo should have come to the prize-giving tonight, I think you both would have enjoyed it for once."

"Well apparently you never let Tony give any of the speeches that he writes for me, so I can't say that I would have," says Jethro mildly, forcing himself to calm down. It's not on Leon's shoulders that everyone thinks Jethro's house is a meeting place, and while Jethro can't say he's happy about Tony being _un_ happy over the prize-givings, it _is_ the director's prerogative to make decisions on the NCIS stage.

Leon rolls his eyes. "DiNozzo talks too much already for my patience, no matter how good he is at his job. However, I do know that he is good at his job, and since he's _unreachable_ tonight, I thought I'd leave his medal with you for safekeeping, given that he's got all of yours." Leon shrugs and saunters towards the front door.

Jethro grabs Leon's arm as he walks past. "This is for Tony?" He holds up the little box.

Leon nods reassuringly, smirking faintly. "A commendation for his work on the Bartholomew case three months back."

Jethro remembers it well. A serial killer hunting down male hookers and strippers. Tony had found the lead, been in his element going undercover in the club as a male stripper, and he'd closed the case with a perfect leap of evidence-based inference _and_ caught the killer right when the man had considered Tony cornered. It had been an exemplary demonstration of intelligence, skills, and bravery.

"Oh hell, he's gonna lose his head," breathes out Jethro, a grin slowly spreading across his face.

"I figured," says Leon, grinning himself. "I would like to see the look on his face when I congratulate him, but I can wait until Monday morning, seeing as he's not around. Sorry again for intruding, Gibbs. Have a good weekend, Jethro." He pats Jethro on the upper arm.

Jethro nods absentmindedly, letting Leon go as he grins happily down at the little box holding Tony's medal. Tony's gonna lose his fucking shit.

"Thanks, Leon, you're forgiven," calls Jethro, head jerking up, as Leon lets himself out the front door. He gets a nod and a wave goodbye before the door closes quietly.

"Huh," says Jethro, slipping the little box and his hands into his pockets and grinning at nothing in particular. He's going to have to write a speech.

Heavy footsteps thud down the stairs, pausing for a moment near the bottom, and melodic humming reaching Jethro's ears.

Jethro takes a deep breath, looking over, and Tony slips into the living room, head down, earbuds in, looking at his phone, thumb scrolling down the screen. He's still humming softly.

Jethro lets out his breath slowly, unable to stop his grin from turning soft as he takes in the sight of his lover.

Tony's hair is a spiky mess from Jethro mussing it up earlier, his chest is bare like Jethro's, silver chain dangling around his neck, dog tags resting on his skin, and Jethro's eyes trace the light dusting of hair on Tony's muscled chest down his treasure trail to the pair of soft black cotton boxers slung low on his hips.

Jethro licks his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. The boxers don't hide the outline of Tony's cock so much as frame it nicely, the shorts a little small on Tony, and Jethro grins at Tony's solid legs, muscled and hairy, followed by Jethro's all time favourite socks on Tony's feet: plain white tube socks. Tube socks always remind Jethro of their first meeting.

Tony lifts his head, blinking and staring at all the people in the living room. The humming stops, and he pulls out one earbud and waves awkwardly to their surprised guests.

"Hey," says Tony faintly, wide-eyed.

Ducky and Abby look as shocked as Tony does, Jethro notes, though Tim smiles awkwardly back at Tony, and Ellie waves kindly back.

"Hi Tony," chirps Jimmy from where he was lurking in the corner, smiling at his friend.

Tony smiles back hesitantly, before his eyes dart to Jethro. "I was just wondering if you were coming back to bed soon?" he says in confusion, and Jethro remembers with a wince that he'd said he would only be a few minutes.

"Uh, this might be taking a little longer than I thought," mutters Jethro, sheepishly rubbing his neck. The glass of water had slipped his mind too.

"Okay," says Tony in a mystified voice, before he shakes it off. "I'm gonna go grab a beer and play in the basement for a bit then," he informs Jethro with a nervous half-grin, still avoiding everyone else's eyes as he moves further into the living room and edging towards the kitchen.

"Okay," agrees Jethro softly. "But come here first?"

Tony shuffles forward, his head hanging shyly, and Jethro slips his fingers into Tony's shorts, twists the waistband, and pulls Tony up against his body, his lover letting out a small squeak.

Jethro grins as he steals a kiss, letting his eyes fall shut and gently sucking on Tony's bottom lip. He kisses Tony deeply, teasing Tony's lips open with his own and sliding his tongue through, running a hand through Tony's soft messy hair. He lets the waistband snap back against Tony's skin as he releases his lover, pulling back from Tony's hot wet mouth, Tony's lips chasing briefly after his own.

"Have fun playing on the piano, sweetheart," rumbles Jethro, reaching around to smooth a hand down Tony's naked spine and cup his ass, ushering his lover past him towards the kitchen.

"Alright," says Tony in a shuddering breath, his eyes hot, the pupils blown nicely.

"I'll come find you as soon as I can," says Jethro, grinning wickedly at Tony's dazed expression. Honestly, he's been waiting months to kiss Tony in public, he might as well take advantage while he can.

Tony wanders off, nabbing a beer from the fridge, and loping towards the basement with a slight swagger to his hips. "Shout if you need me," calls Tony back over his shoulder with a grin, his words drifting lightly through the air.

Jethro smirks as he watches him go, enjoying the sight. _God, if I were a few decades younger_ , he thinks regretfully with an appreciative glance at Tony's tight ass.

But Jethro's also pleased with how comfortable Tony is in his space, the familiarity he has with the house, the confidence Tony has in just walking around in his shorts and grabbing whatever he wants. They haven't talked moving in, either in here or somewhere new, but Jethro's looking forward to that talk, whenever it comes.

" _You're dating Tony!_ " shrieks Abby from behind him, apparently not overly happy about it.

Jethro sighs, and hopes that Tony's little noise-cancelling earbuds are stronger than they look, as Jethro would like the chance to clean up his own mess first. But he _will_ call Tony for back up if he needs it, or let Tony step in if Tony deems it necessary.

That's what this whole being partners thing is about, after all. He doesn't have to do anything alone anymore if he doesn't want to. No more lone wolf. Jethro grins to himself, thinking that Shannon would probably be proud of him for finally starting to get his shit together properly.

Jethro turns around to face his coworkers and sighs again as he catches Abby's outraged face. He's got just one more thing to do before he drags Tony back to bed and gleefully presents his prize to him:

Kick everyone else out of his goddamned house.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hey everyone!
> 
> i worked really hard on this monster fic (well, this story is monster-sized to me) and i'm really happy with it, even though the plot is mostly an excuse to link together porn, angst, humour, and more porn. 
> 
> i debated leaving the beginning in there, and i debated changing the ending to keep it in tony's pov, but i think this way, as it is, bookends the story really well, linking in the rest of the characters and opening up the readers to what people think outside of tony's issues.
> 
> anyway, i worked my butt off on this and it would mean the world to me if you could let me know if you liked it, or what you thought of it, if there's anything in particular that stood out to you or what you liked/disliked most...
> 
> thank you very, very much for reading!
> 
> cheers,  
> edmond


End file.
